Vision | Strategy | Innovation

I Think This is ‘Writing Face’

The ‘Blog Face’ – I’m gonna need some voodoo-style wrinkle cream in the next five years.

For a day that’s been fairly productive, I’m now wading through the muck with ‘Travels with Molly.’ Trying to write the beginning – and going back to the original music I listened to during the development of the original idea back in 2005-2006.

[Yes, I can chronicle my music autobiographically. Yes, you can call me Rob Gordon (though I also make obsessive lists, I have little need or desire to revisit past relationships – once was probably more than enough for me).]

The time period was full of genre jumping – but what I remember most was the commute to work in the mornings. I was a cool kid: I had a first generation iPod (god, how did I live life before an iPod…oh wait – with a MiniDisc player), and I’d listen to it all. the. time. I rediscovered music, wallowed in favorites, branched out and found new and different tracks, provided gratis from my fine musician and audiophile friends. Vinyl was still a cherished medium, don’t get me wrong – but now I could stand outside in sub-freezing temperatures, waiting for the train, dancing along to Jet and the Black Eyed Peas and the Caesars…you get the point. It was a big deal, you whippersnappers. It brought color and vitality to an otherwise frigid grey day met with dark icy night. It brought reprieve to the lab job I worked (read: slaved); brought sanctuary to the cubicle job I held (read: became disillusioned with); brought joy and gratitude with each play of Ok Go’s “Invincible” and “Don’t Ask Me” and “It’s a Disaster” – among several hundred other favorites.

That iPod met its untimely death when I dropped a 20lb weight on it at the gym. It was pitiful. I cried at Boston’s only Apple Store (and couldn’t show my face there again…until I bought a Nano in January 2006 – which still accompanies me to the gym).

But I digress.

It was January 2006 I remember best: standing on the platform, waiting for the train at Davis Square, stressing as both the train and I were to be late yet again, sick with anxiety, wondering how many other people waiting there on the platform were in devoured in their own personal hells as I was. I’d known for three months I couldn’t continue as I was; I’d applied to a full-time law program; I’d applied to a variety of new jobs, new hopes, new titles, new responsibilities: and I waited, the clock ticking. slowly. in. my. head. There was one particular day I got to work early, stimulated by an idea of Langston Hughes – I’d woken before my alarm, thinking of dreams deferred – and without a glance or word to anyone, sat down in my cubicle, opened my laptop, and searched. These were the days before absolutely everything was on the internet, and I couldn’t find it. These were the days before coffee (my birthday, September 2006). This was a day that I gophered above my cubicle, looked over at a co-worker’s empty chair, and made an executive decision: I’d be right back.

And to the Boston Public Library I went. To the expertise of a librarian, through the stacks, to just the collection: and there it was. A dream deferred. And then I wanted to see Allen Ginsberg. And then Kerouac. And whisked away through the byzantine library, surprisingly populated for a Tuesday morning. I absorbed and analyzed and lingered and with sycophantic pleasure, I pursued, now on the hunt for just the right written words. The clock in my head stopped ticking, the clock on the wall finally flying after months of dreary monotony.

I returned to work the next day without explanation, I think. I’m sure there was some laconic excuse – there usually was. It wasn’t worth sharing the truth, that finally I’d pieced together together the puzzles of my despair. It wasn’t appreciable, not in such a raw, pornographic form. All I shared was a singular idea, just before leaving in May. I thought I’d never feel as free as I did that departing day – turns out the albatross evaporates with every good decision, every good move, every personal stand and victory.

And I love it.

Next anticipated date of freedom: maybe July 30. Maybe August 8. Maybe sometime in September. Consider me in full state of preparation, just like the old days, from here on out.

About Anne Hollander

I was born, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, and from there we'll fast forward nearly thirty years. All you really need to know is this: I love to write. And that I suffer from intellectual attention efficiency. Trying to get my attention? Make it compelling. Wanna keep my attention? Invite me to solve a problem, put together puzzle pieces, or develop a theory on any topic. I can't promise success, nor will I, but failure ain't an option.
Oh, and my top five favorite things? Hey, you know, the usual (in no particular order): supreme court smackdowns, the new york times op-ed page, music i can sing and dance with, simple but beautiful jewelry, limeade, post-modern art, driving, shooting pool, dinner parties and "dinner parties", cinnamon, sunshine, beaches, hot weather, flirting, pickup lines, absurd bar conversations, getting in trouble (and talking my way out of it), southern hospitality, laughing so hard i cry, watches, pinstripes, poking fun at the locals, chocolate chip cookies, 'truth or dare', writing, creativity, Mead 70-page notebooks in a variety of colors, imagination, fresh flowers, austin, the boston MBTA, "shiny sparkly pretty things", dallas mavericks, apples, poetry slams, office supplies, texas football, porches and verandas, love letters, mix CDs, road trips, dragonflies, outrageous bar bets, brilliant ideas, texas citrus, staying up late, staying out late, nights of dive bars and diners, waking up early, quiet moments, a twisted sense of humor, camping, live music, clouds, well-written satire, the color red, sunrises, severe weather, thermodynamics, mint juleps, hot apple cider, obscure references and inside jokes, fireworks, swimming in the ocean, looking people in the eye, chemistry, negotiations, playing with fire, oh, and people who have amazing skills i don't.
yeah. pick five and call it a day.

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